Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome
by Hawkeye116
Summary: Mary Porter attends her first year at Boneslides School of Music and Marching. Probably the wierdest thing I've ever written on fanfiction. (Harry Potter Parody) Chappie 7 up: Percussion and Drillogy Classes
1. The Girl with Good Tempo

A/N: This is the result of reading too many Lord of the Rings parodies in the marching band section. It got me to thinking, not LotR, but why not Harry Potter? So, here it is, my stupidest story ever, Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome! I hope you find it funny.

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Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome

Chapter One: The Girl with Good Tempo

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It was a fine summer evening indeed along the suburban street in an anonymous American town. Children played happily, having pillow fights and noisy sleepovers, while adults sat out on their porches enjoying a few quiet minutes drinking mudslides. The crickets chirped music that soared lazily around the heads of many and they enjoyed a nice snooze in the last rays of the dying sunlight. It was not a day that people would expect anything very important to happen, just another lazy evening in an on-going summer of humidity and heat. 

After the sun had sunk its last rays, the night grew a bit darker and a few streetlights popped on, whilst a random jazz melody from a random saxophonist off the street swayed in the breeze. The people of Sunny Street drifted off into a dream world, the lovely tune of the instrument encompassing their very minds. Perhaps this melody was not as random as it might appear.

For, out in the street, a man with a leather jacket tongued his last sweet note on the saxophone, letting it hang in the air long after ending the tune. He then looked over to a woman dressed in a Raiders jersey and khakis. She had long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a rather severe look upon her face that sharply pierced the saxophonist's own face. She then grinned.

"That was lovely, Al. I think you may've been flat on the last note, however."

The man laughed, shaking his head. "What a surprise to see you here, Professor McGraveh!"

She nodded, and then a worried look crossed her face. "Headmaster, is it true?"

The man glanced at her curiously, and then smiled. "What, my dear Professor?"

"Is it… is it true that you-know-who has fled the U.S.? Is it true that Mary Porter stayed in time? Is it true that Lila and Jim are, are…" The poor Professor McGraveh could not utter the last few words. She burst into tears.

"Yes, dear girl. A few drumsticks were found near their home."

Professor McGraveh coughed.

"As for little Mary, well, she's on her way now, shall we say?"

"With whom?"

"The person I would most trust with my life! Hagrid, of course! I daresay he takes care of Instruments and Guard equipment well enough!"

"Yes, but… Hagrid?" She shook her head.

Just then a golf cart with a trailer carrying a set of tympanis and a marimba on it pulled onto Sunny Street. All the color drained out of Professor McGraveh's face.

"Hagrid took a _Pit Equipment Cart_??"

On top of the golf cart, a seven-foot man with large feet and a crude bundle of blankets sat upon the seat.

"Prof. Dynam'der, Prof. M'Grav'," said the man in acknowledgement.

"Hagrid, keep quiet! You know the Footiefans might hear us!!" hissed McGraveh rather nervously.

"Ah, so that'n be why you're wearin' a Rai'ers jersey, Prof.?"

"Yes! Quiet, Hagrid! Where is Mary?"

"Righ' 'ere, Prof. She fell asleep when we were driving through Plainburgsontonvillecity Town!" said Hagrid.

Hagrid sniffed and handed the little bundle to McGraveh, who handed it to Dynamidore.

"Little Mary will be safe here in the 'burbs. See you in ten years, little timekeeper. May music find its way into your soul."

Dynamidore lay the little bundle down on the steps of 27 Sunny Street, and lay an envelope with a sticker of an eighth note on it. Hagrid shed tears over the little bundle, and played a slow funeral march on the marimba on the golf cart. Dynamidore applauded Hagrid and McGraveh shook her head. Dynamidore and Hagrid got into the cart and McGraveh rode on the trailer by the tympanis.

"Now, let's go PARTY!" exclaimed Hagrid. Dynamidore banged one of the tympanis, and all of the residents of Sunny Street awoke from the enchanted saxophone snooze, wondering why they weren't in bed.

But on the stoop of 27 Sunny Street, little Mary Porter slept peacefully, not knowing that she had perfect timing at the age of one, not knowing that she was to be the greatest clarinetist ever, not knowing that she was anybody in anyway. She slept out the night, to be awoken by Mrs. Turkey's whoops from celebration of the Raiders victory that night. No, little Mary slept peacefully, an innocent little child with the blessing of musical harmony and grace.

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Please review! 


	2. A Day at the Mall

A/N: Chapter two up and ready to go, here! This was written before I even posted chapter one, so I don't know what to expect in reviews. Thanks if you did, and enjoy!

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Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome

Chapter Two: A Day at the Mall

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Mary awoke some ten years later to the rapping on the door of the coat closet next to the stairs. She pulled a pillow over her head. She'd been having such a nice dream! They're been a marimba in it, and a golf cart, and a saxophone… How lovely the tune of the saxophone had been! 

The rapping on the door grew louder and more insistent.

"Mary, get your butt out of that closet and into the dining room! Today is Diana's birthday and I want everything to be absolutely perfect! GET UP!" hollered Mrs. Turkey. Mary groaned. _Diana's birthday?! _She had forgotten. Ugh, what a horrible day it would be!

Mary sat up from her small toddler's bed that took up the whole floor of the closet. A few of the Turkeys' coats were pushed aside to allow for some room. Galoshes and several pairs of sneakers lined the wooden floor under Mary's bed. Some storage cases of Mary's clothes were under the bed also. Shelves lined the dark walls. On them were miscellaneous models of instruments, a few sheets of music, and a cheap Playskool keyboard with 18 keys. Posters of instruments in the Brass, Woodwind, Percussion and Strings families stuck to the wall with the aid of tacks and chewed gum, and a small mirror hung from a nail.

Mary looked into the mirror, observing her deep, dark green eyes. Her skin was a bit pale, and she was a bit short for her age. She had black, snarled hair that was down to her back, and a pair of designer glasses that she valued with her life. In the fifth grade, the School Guidance Councilors had called home and scolded the Turkeys for not having proper eye gear for Mary. The pair of glasses was the only nice thing she owned.

She sighed and tried to tame her hair with a brush. Mary pulled it back into a ponytail and glanced at her forehead. There it was, the old scar that she received in the earthquake that marked her parents' deaths. It was a line that Mary thought looked like a sound wave from an instrument player with good vibrato, but Mrs. Turkey said it looked like the hideous love life of Mr. Next Door, who always seemed to have a different woman with him. Sometimes people stared at it in wonder, and sometimes people had asked to shake her hand or asked for an autograph. Mr. Turkey always managed to shoo them away with the help of Mrs. Turkey, and Diana often asked her, "Why would anyone want to even talk to you?" And this answer Mary did not know. She had no friends, wasn't especially good at anything, and certainly wasn't noticed a lot, unless to be bullied.

"MARY! GET DOWN HEEEEEEERRREEEEEEEEEEE!" screeched the angry voice of Mrs. Turkey. Mary jumped into a pair of faded jeans and a large sweatshirt that used to belong to Diana and rushed down the stairs, afraid that she might not get a meal. It wouldn't be the first time the Turkeys denied Mary food for a couple days and locked her in the closet.

She skidded to a stop in the kitchen and popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. Mary fetched the jam and a knife. The toast popped up and she spread the jam over her meager breakfast.

"Quickly! Eat up, eat up, we have to get you to Mrs. Prune's!"

Mary nearly choked on her toast. Mrs. Prune was an insane old widow who'd been arrested years back for starting a riot at a High School football game. She made Mary clean out her parakeets' cages and talked about her lovely ant farm or her herb garden all day long when she baby-sat. "Mrs. Prune's??"

"That's right, now come on, Mary! EAT, EAT, AND EAT! FASTER, FASTER, FASTER!!!" yelled Mrs. Turkey. The phone rang and Mr. Turkey picked it up hastily while Mary stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth.

"Patty?" called Mr. Turkey in a weak voice. "Prune can't baby-sit. She's gone away to a funeral." Mrs. Turkey gasped.

"And the neighbors are visiting D.C., and Violet, that girl from the local High School, what about her?" asked Mrs. Turkey.

"Dear, she's in a- a, um, _competition_ for her kind right now. And I won't have Diana exposed to- _marching_!" Mr. Turkey hissed the last word in a whisper as if it were a swear word that Mary and Diana shouldn't hear, which they did not.

"You could leave me home!" Mary piped up. Mrs. Turkey looked at her as if she were insane.

"And have you blasting that hideous noise? Absolutely not!" Mrs. Turley was referring to her playing her keyboard, of course. Mary spirits sunk a bit.

"We can't get anyone now! The Parks are coming in five minutes. She'll have to come with us."

Mary grinned. Today was gonna be _fun_!

About thirty minutes later, the Turkeys, Mary, and Diana's oriental friend Sondok pulled into the mall parking lot in the Turkey's truck. They parked and made their way through the crowds into the mall.

"I want to go to that store first!!" exclaimed Diana. She and Sondok giggled and ran off, with Mary, Mr. Turkey and Mrs. Turkey following them. They visited several clothing shops, and they even visited a chocolate store. Diana complained her chocolate-covered strawberry wasn't good enough, and Mary got to eat that. The clerk winked at her and handed her a small chocolate bar as well. This was the best day of Mary's life so far.

After lunch in the food court, Diana and Sondok ran over to a stage area with several jazz instruments on it. They waited around, but the band was on lunch break, so they moved on to something else. Mary, however, stayed to look at the lovely Sony keyboard on the stage.

"It's nice, isn't it?" asked one of the jazz musicians who'd returned early from lunch. Mary nodded, never taking her eye off it.

"You play?" the musician asked her.

"A little."

"You want to play it? I'm sure some folks round here would appreciate some jazz, yo!" He hoisted her up on to the stage and brought out his own tenor sax from the stage. Mary started to improvise, happily accompanying a _real_ musician. She'd always wanted to do this!

Just then, Diana and Sondok bolted back to the stage. Diana knocked Mary out of the way and began banging on the keyboard. The musician's eyes shot open in surprise and he screeched the loudest note on his saxophone by accident. He tripped and dented his saxophone, sending drums and cymbals rolling all over the floor around the stage. Diana knocked over and broke the keyboard while running from a base drum that was rolling her way. An alto saxophone crashed on the floor and a few reeds went flying through the air. People screamed and there was mass chaos.

Mr. Turkey grabbed the back of Mary's collar, and his face beet red.

"DID YOU DO THIS?" he yelled. Mary shook her head no.

"Come with me right now, Diana and Sondok! This shopping trip is officially OVER!"

Mary looked back with a tear at the broken instruments that had been so beautiful and saw the musician heaving a snare drum off his chest. He stared in her direction, looking as though he'd seen a ghost. The musician was staring at Mary's forehead.

Mary thought she heard him call out, "Mary Porter?" But her ears were most likely deceiving her, and she knew it was NOT going to be pretty after Sondok was dropped off. She gulped and choked back tears, knowing that she could say goodbye to her keyboard in her closet.

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Please review! 


	3. The HAMLOP

A/N: He he, thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all rock! Oh, and Shady: No, I haven't read Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody, but I'l try. And I actually did get Sondok's name from the Royal Diaries book. Probably should put that in the disclaimer, shouldn't I?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the _Harry Potter_ series or the _Royal Diaries_ series. And I don't own the _Jak and Daxer_ series for PS2 either, but I sure wish I did, and I know Shadowsister does too! Sorry for all the marchers out there that are reading this butI just have to point out it is a top of the line game.. FINE, I'll stop ranting. Here's the chappie. Enjoy!

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Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome  
Chapter Three: The Hamlop

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A few days later, Mrs. Turkey finally released Mary from the confines of her closet. Mary rushed downstairs for breakfast, shoveling down her stale cereal into her mouth. Just as she reached for a banana, Mr. Turkey told Diana to fetch the newspaper and the mail. 

"Make Mary do it!" whined Diana.

"Make Diana do it!" said Mary, hoping Mr. Turkey would be too sleepy still to know what he was really hearing.

"Mary, get the mail!"

"Yes Uncle Vincent," Mary replied. She opened up the door to the downstairs closet and donned on an old pair of flip-flops. Mary went out the front door, and grabbed the mail and newspaper without interest. She flicked through the mail.

A few bills, a jury duty notice, ads, a magazine, a few catalogs, a letter addressed to Mary Porter, an over due library book notice, a notification letter from Diana's new Jr. High… WAIT! A letter addressed to _Mary Porter_? Who would write to _her_??

Mary set the mail and newspaper on the kitchen table and strode off, letter in hand.

"Daddy! Mary has a letter!" yelled Diana.

"WHAT?" yelled Mr. Turkey, and he sprinted out of the kitchen and body slammed Mary, who was very dazed after the blow.

"Trombone slide?" she said sub-consciously, rubbing her head. Mr. Turkey's face grew an elaborate shade of magenta and he bellowed at Mary with all his might, "NEVER SAY THAT WORD OR ANY RELATING TO IT! YOU KNOW IT IS FORBIDDEN! GO TO YOUR CLOSET!"

"Bu-but…"

"GO!"

Mary hung her head, and then snatched for the letter. Mr. Turkey swatted her hand, and tore the letter into two, and two again. He growled at her, and threw the letter into the fireplace.

She stormed up the stairs, with tears trailing down her cheeks. The only time she'd ever gotten a letter, it just was charred black ash now, nothing more. She stomped particularly hard on the top stair and slammed her closet door, collapsing onto her bed.

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The next morning, Mary awoke to a low alarm. It was 7 o'clock. Perfect. 

She tiptoed silently down the stairs, ever so cautiously placing her foot on the muffling carpet. Mary padded silently to the front door, and reached for the brass door knob…

A squeal from a dog broke the silent night air, and a pair of feet raced down the stairs, yelling, only to add to the noise. The dog, Foofy, Diana's Chihuahua, whined and scampered away with its tail between its legs. The beam of a flashlight followed the dog, and then suddenly snapped up in Mary's face.

Holding the flashlight was a furious Mr. Turkey. He barked at Mary to get back upstairs, and yelled at her some more once they were up them.

"FOR THE SAKE OF THE OAKLAND RAIDERS, WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? AND YOU NEARLY _KILLED_ DIANA'S FOOFY! GET INTO BED!!"

Mary pounded her fist on her bed as Mr. Turkey dead-bolted the closet door. She was stuck here again! She moaned.

"Get to sleep!" barked Mr. Turkey from the other side of the closet door. Mary sighed, and curled up dejectedly in her blankets, expecting not to come out of her closet for the rest of the summer.

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However, perhaps at ten, Mrs. Turkey pounded on the closet door. 

"Get up and pack some clothes! We're traveling today!" snarled Mrs. Turkey. Mary raised an eyebrow, then pulled out a tub of baggy jeans from Diana and old, worn T-shirts with miscellaneous logos, and began to pack. She also stuffed a poster of Woodwind instruments in her bag, not being able to leave them behind.

She heard Diana whining that she couldn't bring her XBox or her birthday cake in the car. _That absolute **pig**!_ thought Mary.

"But MOM, Sondok and Paige and I were going to get our nails done!! And besides, I'll miss out my four hours of video games!!" cried Diana.

"NO, pack some clothes, that's all, we're leaving!" retaliated Mrs. Turkey. Diana whimpered, but didn't reply.

Mary peeked out of the closet, clutching her backpack tightly on her shoulder. Suddenly, Diana spotted her.

"I bet this has something to do with that letter of yours, _doesn't it_?" growled Diana. She cracked her knuckles. Mary winced. She hated listening to bones cracking. However, Diana was slowly approaching her, ready to scratch Mary with her long, sharp nails. Mary was used to this, though, and she ducked out of the way and scampered down the stairs, giggling at Diana's stupidity.

A while later, Mr. and Mrs. Turkey joined Mary and Diana on a long car ride to several hotels. Many times, fifteen or twenty letters had already been waiting for Mary in the hotel lobby. And each time, Mary had failed to get one. And each time, Mr. Turkey drove farther, and farther. At one point, Diana asked Mrs. Turkey if her father had gone crazy. Her mother hushed her quickly as Mr. Turkey returned to the car from yet another inn. He simply said two words: "More letters."

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After a complete twenty-four hours of non-stop travel, Mr. Turkey pulled up to the edge of a black lake. It was tranquil and deadly silent outside, and Mr. Turkey disappeared from Mary's view in a few seconds. 

A half hour passed, with no conversation. Finally, Mr. Turkey returned and beckoned the three to come. An old, insane man with gray hair and a hoarse laugh rowed the four to an island of rock with a shaky hut on it, his oars slicing the water like glass.

Mr. Turkey nodded, and opened the rickety door, while Mrs. Turkey held a crate-full of chips, crackers, and trail mix. They ate the supplies in silence, and then were sent to bed. Diana slept on the couch, Mr. and Mrs. Turkey slept on a Queen bed. Mary got the dusty floor.

She shivered and pulled her legs up to her chest. Mary could not handle having no blankets. She glanced at Diana, then saw Diana's watch: it was the twenty-ninth of July!

Mary had forgotten her birthday! Not that it was any major event, but still, she'd be eleven on the thirtieth, which was in less than two minutes. She drew a single candle on the floor, and blew on it just as Diana's watch turned midnight. Mary chocked on some of the excess dirt caught in her lungs from the floor, and gagged as a pound on the door shook the hut.

Mr. Turkey came out with a shotgun, and then looked at Mary curiously as her face turned blue. Mrs. Turkey slapped her on the back to get her to stop choking as the door burst open, and a seven-foot man roared at the top of his lungs.

"GET YER GRIMEE LIL' 'ANDS AWAY FROM 'ARY!!" he shouted, and whacked Mrs. Turkey over the head with a rifle covered in white tape. She fell onto the floor, unconscious.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" screamed Mr. Turkey as he aimed the shotgun at the stranger.

"I KNOCKED 'ER OVER DA HEAD, YA STUPID IDIOT!" The seven-foot man brought up his rifle, and drew a saber, also covered in white tape.

"Drop your weapons, intruder, and maybe I won't hurt you," said Mr. Turkey.

"I very well think not!" yelled the man, and he twirled the saber and the rifle at the same time. He tossed them both in the air. The rifle and the saber spun straight at the shotgun, and knocked it out of Mr. Turkey's hands.

But the stranger wasn't finished yet; he withdrew a six-foot metal pole with a white flag attached to it and started moving his feet in place, spinning the flag in front of him.

"DROPSPIN!" yelled the man, and a gust of wind blew Diana, Mr. Turkey, and Mrs. Turkey back into the Turkey's room. The stranger yelled, "PIZZA!" He spun the flag over his head, and hurled it at the door to the bedroom, jamming it shut.

The man retrieved the flag and the rifle and saber. Mary shivered.

"Don't be afraid, lil' one. Name's Hagrid. And ya must be 'ary, right?" asked Hagrid.

Mary nodded in disbelief; first, she'd turned eleven, then nearly died of choking on dirt, and now this giant man with a flag knew her name.

"Oh, nearly fergot, 'ere's yer letter." Hagrid handed Mary the letter that she'd been longing to get.

She opened the envelope, puzzled by the contents. A flat black disk, nothing else. Then, it began to twirl, and a holographic screen appeared. Music played in the background, and an automated voice read the letter in front of her eyes.

"BONESLIDES SCHOOL OF MUSIC AND MARCHING PRESENTS!" said the voice rather loudly, "A MESSAGE APPROVED BY HEADMASTER DYNAMIDORE (ORDER OF MOZART FIRST CLASS, GRAND SAXOPHONIST, CHIEF CONDUCTOR, SUPREME MARCHER, INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF MUSICIANS)!"

A dramatic moment of silence reigned, and the voice continued.

"A LETTER OF ACCEPTANCE FOR MS. MARY PORTER!!!!" it screeched. Then, another softer, more humane, feminine voice spoke.

"Dear Ms. Porter," started the voice.

"Congratulations! You have been selected to attend Boneslides School of Music and Marching. Term starts September first. Take the Sliding Express on September the first from Queen's Moss Station in San Francisco. We hope to see you at Boneslides, and have a nice rest of the summer. Your Band Director, Mrs. Marisa McGraveh: Band Director and Deputy Headmistress of Boneslides."

The disk stopped spinning and landed gently back in Mary's hand. Her eyes were wide open.

"I've never seen such technology!" she exclaimed.

"Well, tha's the special thing with musicians and color guard, see? We're all much farther advanced than the Footiefans." Hagrid observed Mary's look of confusion, and then explained himself.

"Er, righ', Footiefans are football fans. Er, non-musical people, if ya get what I'm getting' at."

Mary nodded, though still confused.

"Righ', so, the technology! Yah, 'tis great! Took a bunch of highly trained Musical Theoreticians and Scientists ter come up wi' tha' one! It captures the sound waves from the speaker, but normally tha's not enough. So, we add music in the background, an' the sound waves are forte enough to be heard an' properly recorded. The frequency has to be constant enough, though, otherwise, 'tis a dud hamlop. Er, I mean a Holographic and Musical Letter or Post. A Hamlop," Hagrid explained.

"Right, I guess I get the science behind that, but what in the world is Boneslides School?" asked Mary.

Hagrid stared at her like she had two heads.

"Ya mean no one ever told ya? You're a Band Geek, Mary!"

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Oh, big surprise there! Be sure to review! And I do reccommend the _Jak and Daxter_ series for anyone and everyone! FINE, I'LL BE QUIET! R&R! 


	4. School Shopping at Del Segno Alley

A/N: Thanks to all reviewers and here is chappie 4. Just to let ya know, Lord Xylophone is Lord Voldemort, in case you get confuzzled.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bleh.

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Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome  
Chapter Two

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Mary sat in the sunlight with Hagrid, enjoying a nice ice cream sundae down in Del Segno Alley. She finished the last bite, and inserted her bowl and spoon into a recycling bin. That was one of the things Mary found a bit strange about musical people-they recycled any and everything. They really were ages ahead of Footiefans in the technological field. _Technological_, Mary mused, _what a big word!_ After all, she was only eleven, and had barely any education, all thanks to the Turkeys. 

"Mary, what's left on your list of school supplies?" questioned Hagrid. Mary shrugged and pulled out the HAMLOP, waiting for her list to show up. The disk rose a few inches above Mary's hand and spun at a rapid pace.

"BONESLIDES SCHOOL OF MUSIC AND MARCHING PRESENTS!" yelled the automated voice on the diskette, "A MESSAGE APPROVED BY HEADMASTER DYNAMIDORE (ORDER OF MOZART FIRST CLASS, GRAND SAXAPHONIST, CHIEF CONDUCTOR, SUPREME MARCHER, INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF MUSICIANS)!"

Mary sighed in annoyance as the dramatic pause of silence reigned, and then the robotic voice blasted out, "SCHOOL SUPPLIES LIST FOR BONESLIDES!" Mary shook her head, and waited for the Hamlop to continue.

"UNIFORM!

"Beginner students will require:

6 set of Marching Outfits, Blue and Yellow

3 sets of Lounging Outfits, Any color(s)

One Marching Band Uniform, Blue and Yellow/ One Guard Uniform, Blue skirt w/ Yellow top

One plain blue shako, with white plume

One pair thin white gloves for performances/One pair Guard gloves

Three pairs of fingerless gloves for practice

One Parka, Blue and Yellow with white fastenings

Two sets of sneakers

One Pair Marching shoes/Guard Shoes

Names should be written on the inside of each item.

"COURSE BOOKS!

"All students should have the following books:

_The Standard Book of Scales (Grade 1)  
_By Clair E. Net

_A History of Music_  
By Cal Lor Gard

_Musical Theory_  
By Theo Wree

_A Beginners' Guide to Concert Band_  
By Mar Imba

_One Thousand Basic Marching Exercises_  
By M. Ar-Ching

_Warm-ups for Drums and Marimbas_  
By Dr. Ummer

_Fantastic Instruments and How to Play Them  
_By Ima Bandie

_The Untimely Forces: A Guide to Metronomes and Tempos_  
By Ty Ming 

_Dot Book_-Be sure to have a string attached for easy access during Rehearsals

"MISCELLANEOUS!

"One instrument/One Flag

One Thermos (blue, standard size 1 gallon)

One set mallets or drum sticks

One music stand

One set valve oil/cork grease/guard tape

"END TRANSMISSION!"

"Um, I have to get my uniform, books and instrument."

"Okay, why don't yeh go get yer uniform and I'll get yer books fer yeh?"

"Okay."

Mary walked down the center of the Alley, and found the shop she was looking for: Madam Marchin's Marching Outfits for All Occasions. Mary stepped into the shop.

* * *

Madam Marchin greeted her in a rough Italian accent and rushed off to get some marching outfits and a uniform that might fit Mary. 

**Bang!**

Mary looked around wildly, and noticed a girl with blond hair rubbing her forehead as she opened the door. The girl looked up at Mary and giggled.

"I, like, don't know why, I just, like, do that a ton!"

Mary nodded, and scooted away from the weird girl.

"No, wait, it's OK! I'm Dum- I mean Darcy. But, like, who are _you_?"

Mary, who'd already encountered enough psyched musicians already, just gave her first name.

"Mary."

"Larry? Huh, what an awful name, it's, like, so _common_!" Mary frowned, but Darcy didn't notice. Instead, she kept on chatting, the whole time amusing herself with a Chinese Finger Trap by pulling her fingers.

"Are you, like, going to Boneslides?" asked Dumb-I mean, Darcy.

Mary nodded.

"My parents hate that, like, weird Dynamo guy that's the headma… headmas… the Principal there. And they hate it 'cause, there's, like, non-pure-bloods there! They're, like, Foot-bloods!" exclaimed Dumb-I mean, Darcy, dramatically. She gasped.

"You're not, like, foot-blooded, are you?"

"Um…?"

Just then Madam Marchin came back with some outfits, and spotted Darcy, who was constantly saying, "Ouch!" while trying to figure out the Chinese Finger Trap.

"Darcy, dear, guess-a what!" shouted Madam Marchin.

"What?" Darcy yelled.

"Somebody spilt-a nail polish out on the street! It's-a still wet, you-a know!"

"No, like, way!"

"Yes-a way!"

"Like, how COOLERIFIC! See you at Boneslides, Larry!" she shouted, and ran out of the store.

"Yuk, little pest, come and-a mess-a up my-a shop, curse-a that-a Dumb Blond…Oh? Mary, dear, come-a try on your-a outfits!"

* * *

A little later Mary exited the store. Hagrid met her with a big pile of books and a small yellow one, which he handed to her. Attached to it was a black string, and on the cover was 'DOT BOOK'. "Put that on." She did. 

"Now, let's see, thar's on'y one thing left on yer list, 'ary. C'mon, I know da perfect shop."

* * *

Hagrid led Mary to a store with a sign that read: "Quality Instruments and Guard Equipment Since We Don't Remember B.C." Hagrid opened the door and shoved Mary in. Mary jumped as a creepy, withered old guy poked her back. 

"BOO! Welcome to Quality Scares Haunted House… Wooooooooooooooooooo, you can't see me!" he whispered. He cackled and motioned for Hagrid to sit.

"I know what you came for, lil' one. Now, what are you interested in, band or guard?"

Mary shrugged as a self-measuring measuring tape measured her arm, her head, her finger, and her foot.

"Hmm, well, we'll see… Hmm, how about this flag, seven feet, aluminum, with nylon flag?"

Mary took the flag and tried to mimic the drop spin she'd seen Hagrid do. She whirled it around in a circle and knocked a music stand down.

"No, definitely not."

The man brought Mary a new item, this time an instrument.

"Ah, the trusty old trombone. A three-foot long trombone and a silver mouthpiece. Go ahead, give it a blow."

Mary blew with all her might. Something that sounded very much like a frog in a blender escaped from the bell.

"NO! No, not for you. Hmm, what about this?"

The man handed Mary a flute. "Foot-and-a-half long flute, with closed keys, gold mouthpiece." Mary blew, and produced a rather scratchy sound came from the flute.

"No, not many can play a flute quite right. Well, I wonder… Maybe, well, just try it. Black clarinet, with a Pigeon Plant reed. Go on, try it!"

This time, Mary made a rich, nasally sound that any clarinetist makes. She grinned, and blew on it some more, until it made a rather unpleasant squeak.

"Yes, that's perfect, well, that'll be 1,249 Jumbo Paper Clips charged to Ms. Mary Porter's account at Reedgotts. Now, Ms. Porter, this is very interesting… Very interesting indeed! For, You-Know-Who-"

"You mean Lord Xylophone?"

"YES! Don't speak his name! His very saxophone reed came from the same Pigeon Plant as yours did, and that Pigeon Plant allowed only two reeds to be taken from it's tail, just two, no more. It is curious that your wand would be the sibling reed to-"

"To Lord Xylophone's reed?"

Right now the old man looked as if her were having a heart attack. "DON'T SAY HIS NAME!!" the old man bellowed, and received an odd look from a boy glancing in the window.

"Um, I'm sorry about saying- hey, what a neat xylophone!" Mary rushed over to a marimba and tapped one of the keys with her nails. She laughed.

"C'mon, 'ary, we best get going!"

Mary nodded and followed Hagrid out the door. She waved goodbye to the shivering man who was cowering on the floor. Mary's face produced an evil grin.

"That's a real nice xylophone, mister," she commented. The man shrieked as she closed the door.

'MWAHAHA! I have learned how to control musicians all over the world! They will all bow down to do my bidding! HAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!' Mary thought.

"Uh, 'ary, what're yeh laughing at?"

Mary blushed. "Um, nothing Hagrid," she lied.

"Righ'. Well, we best be getting' yeh back ter Sunny Street. 'Ere's yer ticked fer the Sliding Express. Be sure ter be there on September first if yeh plan on goin' ter Boneslides!" Hagrid drove her home in a golf cart, earning many strange looks from fellow drivers.

* * *

"Thanks Hagrid!" said Mary when she got home. She grinned her ticket to the Sliding Express, and pushed open the door to the Turkey's home, her clarinet drawn. 

"FEAR ME!" she screamed, and Diane, who had answered the door, ran as fast as she could to her parents.

"AHAHAHAHAHAA!!" Mary laughed. It was going to be a fun four weeks before she went off to school…

* * *

Review! 


	5. The Sliding Express

A/N: YAY! Chappie five! Thanks to aelwyn and The Pirate Illustionist for reviews!

* * *

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own squat. ;)

* * *

Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome  
Chapter Five

* * *

Mary awoke on the morning of September first. Today was the day she was going off to Boneslides! Vaguely she wondered if it was just a dream. But, no, it wasn't, for there was her sleek black clarinet case sitting on a small shelf in the extra bedroom. After much poking and prodding from her reed-case, she'd convinced Mr. Turkey to let her move into the guest room.

Jazz, Mary's songbird (used in Bird Post, the Musical way of mail), tweeted and flapped his wings. Mary smiled. It really had been really nice of Hagrid to send her the young bird. Jazz had come with a note attached saying that it was a late birthday present for Mary.

Mary rose from her bed and gathered all of his miscellaneous school equipment, stuffing it into a trunk at the foot of her bed. She heaved it down the stairs along with Jazz's birdcage and clarinet case. She grinned evilly as she put her clarinet together, and sneaked silently up the stairs to outside of Diana's room.

All of a sudden, she put the instrument to her mouth and squeaked shrilly. She laughed as a scream came from Diana's room. Diana tore open her door, and screamed again as she spotted Mary with her clarinet. Mary laughed and held out the instrument closer to Diana, who shouted and bolted down the hall to her parents' room.

"MOM! DAD! MARY HAS HER CLARINET OUT AGAIN!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Another squeak followed Diana's scream, and Mr. Turkey banged his bedroom door open.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF JERRY RICE IS GOING ON HERE?" he yelled. Diana whimpered.

"Nothing, Uncle Vincent, I just wanted to wake you up to let you know that I need a ride to Queen's Moss Station in San Francisco," Mary informed him. She put on an angelic face, and when he started to say no, she put the clarinet up to her mouth again.

"DON'T! We'll go! Get in the car! Just put that thing away!"

* * *

An hour later, Mary lugged her trunk out to Platform 11. According to her ticket, she was supposed to find Platform 10 and six eighth-notes, but all she saw was 10 and 11.

"-Your instrument case, dear. I'll meet you on the platform. Go now, Robbie dear."

"Yes mom, I've got my Boneslides letter-"

Boneslides? Maybe the redheaded family a bit away from Mary knew where the platform was. Mary approached a redheaded woman and asked her about the platform.

"Oh, Beginner year at Boneslides, dear?" asked the woman. Mary nodded. "Well, so is my little Robbie here." She placed her hand on a young boy with blue eyes and the same red hair as the rest of the family. He frowned as his two of his older sisters, twins, giggled.

"Alright dear, just walk through the wall right there." Mary nodded, a bit apprehensive, and walked through the wall.

* * *

She gasped as she saw the magnificent Sliding Express, a long, silver snake that could top over a hundred miles per hour. It was so called because of how it seemed to slide along the tracks.

"ALL ABOARD!" yelled the conductor, who was dressed in a neat gray uniform. Mary set her trunk down to where a few train staff loaded the remaining luggage. She held on to her clarinet case and set and set Jazz free of the birdcage. Jazz followed Mary onto the train, where Mary looked around and found an empty room to sit in.

A few minutes later, a head covered in red hair poked in and asked, "Can I sit here? There wasn't any room left." Mary smiled, and motioned for the boy to sit opposite her.

"Who are you?" she asked, glad to be finally meeting somebody that was a Band Geek like her.

"Oh, I'm Rob Otterly. Y' know, you look familiar somehow…"

"That's because I just asked your mom where the entrance to the Platform was."

"That was you?"

"Yeah! My name's Mary Porter!" Mary grinned again, and then rolled her eyes as Rob gawked at her with his mouth open.

"You were the one who marked time at age one and whose parents died and who was responsible for the fall of you-know-who?" Rob asked in one breath. Mary nodded, and giggled.

The compartment door slid open and a jolly young woman offered sweets for sale.

"What do you have?"

"Oh dear, lots of things you'd like for sure! There are Clarinet Cakes and Harping Hot Balls and Trumpet Cookies and Chocolate Saxophones and Flautist Fran's Every Music-Genre Beans! Do you want anything?"

Rob shook his head, but Mary shoved several paper clips made of real gold into the woman's hand. "We'll take the lot!"

After that, the woman left. Rob looked hungrily at the sweets and said nothing.

"Are you hungry? Do you want some?"

"Really?"

"Of course! What do you want?"

"Maybe a Trumpet Cookie and a Chocolate Saxophone?"

"Sure."

Mary handed Rob half of her pile of sweets, and then wondered about something.

"What do you play?"

"Oh, I'm going to play mellophones," explained Rob in the middle of chewing a Clarinet Cake.

"I've got a clarinet!" exclaimed Mary happily. She opened up a packet of Flautist Fran's Every Music-Genre Beans and poured a couple into her hand.

"I'd watch out if I were you. When you chew them, they play music in your head and when they say every genre they mean every genre! One time Georgia got Hard Rock and she was deaf for two days, and Phoebe got Disco and only got around by doing the moonwalk for a looooooong time."

"Whoa, that's awesome! Hmm, a pink-striped black one!" cried Mary. She popped the bean into her mouth, and hooted. "YEAH, PUNK ROCK BABY!"

Rob laughed as the compartment door slid open yet again. A boy Mary's age with buck teeth and sandy-blond hair opened the door.

"Howdy y'all, have yous seen mah mutt 'round these here parts?" asked the boy with a Southwestern accent.

"Sorry, haven't seen any dogs," answered Rob. The boy glanced at Mary curiously. She was playing air guitar and was yelling lyrics to a strange song.

"She had a Punk Rock Flautist Fran Every Music-Genre Bean," Rob explained.

The boy laughed. "Mah name's Billy, and you must be Rob Otterly, righ'?" Rob nodded.

"Yah, I hear some of yer sister folks talkin' bout you tryin' ta find a seat. Guess ya found one."

"Yep, nice meeting you."

The compartment door closed and Billy continued on down the hall.

"AND I'VE NEVER BEEN THE SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMEEEEEEE!" screeched Mary, who finished up with her song. "Ha, ha, I think I'll stay away from the Beans for a while," she commented. Rob nodded.

Yet again, the compartment door slid open. This time a girl with braided dirty blond hair pulled it open, clutching a small piccolo.

"Have either of you seen a yellow lab running around?" asked the girl. Rob shook his head and Mary answered, "No."

"Whoa, are you- _Mary Porter_?" exclaimed the girl. "I'm Hannah Grainier, and who are you…?" she asked Rob.

"Rob Otterly."

"Pleasure. Anyway, Mary, oh my GOD I can't believe it's you!! Wow, this is AWESOMENESS!!!!!!!!"

"Ugh, flautists and piccolo players, they're always so hyper," mumbled Rob.

"Can you play? I can play a really high C! Wanna hear?" Hannah put her piccolo up to her mouth and blew. A shrill, high note pierced the air and glass shattered. Mary covered her ears and screamed.

"NOOOOOOOOO! STOP!!" shouted Rob. Jazz fluttered around wildly and Rob's ferret, Sonata, screeched.

Hannah took a deep breath and started playing "Yankee Doodle" at 215 beats per minute, and then ran through her F scale and her C scale before Mary interrupted her with a clarinet squeak.

"Ooh, can you two play?" Hannah asked while jumping up and down. Mary swore Hannah had had WAY too much sugar before getting on the train.

"Well, Georgia transcribed a scale for me and I think I've got it down," said Rob proudly. He blew on his mouthpiece and began blowing random notes on his mellophone. "Dang it, I bet Georgia knew that was a fake scale…"

"… You have a good tone…" Mary said, trying to make Rob feel better.

"Oh, I have to look for the dog. Thanks anyways! Nice meeting you! EEEEEEEEEEEEE! PUPPY! WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU?"

"Sheesh, I've never met someone so HYPER!" exclaimed Mary. Rob nodded in agreement.

* * *

Rob and Mary finished the rest of their candy and enjoyed watching each other's reaction to the rest of Flautist Fran's Every Music-Genre Beans. Their fun was interrupted with an announcement from the intercom on the ceiling:

"We will be at Boneslides shortly. All students are asked to put on their marching outfits and all Prefects report to the head of the train."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!!!! WE'RE GOING TO BONESLIDES!" Mary heard Beginner Year flautists yell as they ran by. She shook her head as she saw Hannah at the head of them. This certainly promised to be an interesting year.

* * *

Review, please? 


	6. The Sorting Harp

A/N: Thanks to LongbottomzGirl, esemeliand The Pirate Illustionist for reviews. I'm making Head Boy and Head Girl the Drum Majors, by the way. Maybe Prefects should be section leaders… Nah…. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

These are the first- through seventh-year students are called at Boneslides: 

Beginners-First Years  
Newbies-Second Years  
Novices-Third Years  
Rookies-Fourth Years  
Veterans-Fifth Years  
Juniors-Sixth Years  
Seniors-Seventh Years

* * *

Mary sat in the front of a small rowboat next to Rob. Sonata and Jazz were perched on his head. The dark water in front of her was silent and tranquil as the small fleet of rowboats containing all the Beginners made its way to the Boneslides Harbor. 

Rob nudged Mary and pointed to the Palace up above. The place was very modern looking and there were several windows, and even buildings made entirely of glass. Four towers as high as buildings in San Francisco rose on each corner of the Palace: north, south, east, and west. Mary gasped and grinned at Rob.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, a woman in khakis, a white blouse, and a blue and yellow parka led the group of Beginners up several flights of stairs to the outside of tall, wooden doors. She bid the group to stay quiet as she slid into the room behind the doors, which the only piccolo player of the Beginner group yelled that it was the Mess Hall. 

Mary heard a familiar voice utter a sigh of disgust.

"Stupid girl, she, like, stinks like a foot… She's, like, a Footblood, so I don't, like, see why she wouldn't…" mumbled Darcy. Darcy then tripped over a stair. She screamed, and erected herself with the aid of two surly brunettes.

"Ghoul! Shrimp! Get your hands OFF me! Ugh…" Darcy marched over to Mary and smirked.

"Ha, so, like, the rumors _were_ true: Mary Porter has come to Boneslides. Shrimp, you owe me two paper clips… Where was I? Oh yes, I'm, like, dumb! Er, I mean, Darcy Marchfoy, and you're, like, Mary Porter! I'm offering you a once-in-a-lifetime chance of, like, being friends with ME!" Darcy exclaimed. Rob laughed out loud.

"I'm surprised you could say that much in one breath, Marchfoy. I mean, really, just how stupid ARE you?" commented Rob. A quick slap from Ghoul silenced him.

"HEY! Don't hit my friends!" yelled Mary. Darcy's eyebrows rose.

"You mean you, like, literally, actually, totally are totally, really, totally, FRIENDS with that, like, guy??" she questioned, rather confused.

"YES! Go away, I don't want to associate myself with the uncomprehending type if you know what I mean…" responded Mary.

"Uncompre- Uncomprehending?? What the HECK does that mean??" cried Darcy.

"Means 'dumb', Darcy," responded Shrimp.

"Oh, so it's like, a long version of my name?" she asked.

"No, it means-"

But the opening of the wooden door interrupted Shrimp. Professor McGraveh glared at Darcy and her two bodyguards.

"MARCHFOY! SHRIMP! GHOUL! Get back in line!" she shouted. The three girls scampered off, and Darcy mumbled something about having to tell people her name was Uncomprehending Marchfoy…

* * *

"Attention students! Students?" hollered Professor McGraveh. The area quieted down. "You are about to be sorted into your house. This house will be where you will live, study and practice your instruments throughout your stay at Boneslides. The people in your house will be your Boneslides family. 

"There are four houses at Boneslides: Smartstuff, Normalninny, Decadantdude, and Fearlessfool. The Sorting Concert will begin momentarily."

Rob shifted nervously and Mary jittered with apprehension.

"I really hope I'm not in Decadantdude," whispered Rob.

"Why?" Mary questioned.

"Because the only Bandies who get into that house always turn to the Untimely Arts!"

"Oh."

Mary shivered, and hoped she wouldn't be sorted into Decadantdude.

Professor McGraveh motioned for the Beginner year students follow her. The some odd fifty students piled into the Mess Hall in two long lines. Rob nudged Mary and pointed up. Mary glanced up at the ceiling and saw that it raining. High and low temperatures with forecasts for the upcoming month stretched around the edges of the ceiling.

"WOW! I read about this! The techies here at Boneslides program the ceiling to display not only the current weather but to also give any curious onlooker a glimpse at a forecast for the upcoming month," Hannah said, all in one breath of air. She was talking with a group of saxophonists and low brass players.

"WELCOME!" boomed a take-charge voice, "TO BONESLIDES!" The man speaking looked around at his students and grinned behind designer sunglasses.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Dynamidore, Headmaster of Boneslides. First off, let us all welcome our lovely new Beginners!" shouted Professor Dynamidore over a microphone. The students in the Mess Hall cheered, and Professor McGraveh brought forth a stool, and Hagrid carried out a gigantic harp with the help of another short, stubby professor. The professors backed away respectfully from the harp. Much to Mary's surprise, the harp began to play.

"Ooh, coolie! It's amazing what musical scientists and inventors can do with technology; that harp not only plays and sings but composes its own music and is programmed to have a personality," whispered Hannah. A trumpet player shushed her and Mary listened to the lovely notes played on the harp.

_Long, long ago_

_In a place not so far away,_

_Four people set foot_

_Where this great Palace does lay._

_They all had a dream,_

_A very great one,_

_Of educating young minds_

_Under the Californian sun._

_Those four alone_

_Set out to build_

_Our great Boneslides_

_For a youthful, musical guild._

_These four founders_

_Toiled through cold and cool:_

_Nora Normalninny, Susie Smartstuff,_

_Dan Decadantdude, Fred Fearlessfool._

_Now that they are gone,_

_Boneslides needs one to sort_

_And so I was made,_

_And shipped to Boneslides port._

_You might be in Normalninny,_

_Which is always okay,_

_Or in Decadantdude,_

_Where they are…clever, I must say._

_You could be in Smartstuff:_

_They are the geniuses here._

_Or ever yet in Fearlessfool,_

_Courageous to the boot and in all ways held dear._

_So try me out!_

_I can't cause that much fright!_

_I can assure you that_

_I know your plight._

_Come!_

_Play me, Child._

_Please, sit, and stay,_

_If not for a while!_

The Mess Hall broke into applause. After the cheering died down, Professor McGraveh began calling out names.

"Allegretto, Daniel."

The boy sat on the stool. He put his fingers on a few of the strings, and, very mysteriously, began to play a jubilant melody with several wrong notes.

"NORMALNINNY!" shouted the harp.

"Bandgirl, Ima." She repeated the same process as Daniel Allegretto, and was sorted into Smartstuff.

Mary waited impatiently. Brown, Lily was sorted into Fearlessfool. Bzeslezeza, Bzelas was sorted into Decadantdude. Clerwes, Karla was sorted into Smartstuff. Mary nearly drifted off to sleep for some time.

* * *

"Ghoul, Gretta." Mary's head snapped up and watched as Ghoul was sorted into Decadantdude. 

"Grainier, Hannah." Fearlessfool.

* * *

Mary stared up at the ceiling for some time until a blond shoved past her. 

"Marchfoy, Darcy." Decadantdude.

* * *

After a few more names, "Otterly, Robert." 

Mary pushed Rob forward and wished him good luck. He sat on the stool and plucked one string. Almost immediately, the Sorting Harp yelled, "FEARLESSFOOL!

"Porter, Mary."

The Mess Hall erupted into whispers as Mary approached the Sorting Harp. She sat on the stool, and plucked one of the strings from the harp. It twanged unpleasantly.

'_Ah, perhaps a Decadantdude here?'_

Mary jumped at the voice in her head. 'Who ARE you?' she thought.

_'The Sorting Harp, of course. What, not used to machines having minds? Humph, Decadantdudes are always so unappreciative of others around them.'_

'I AM NOT A DECADANTDUDE!'

'_Obviously, as I haven't made you one yet. Well, here goes'-_ "DECA-"

'NO I DON'T WANT TO BE A DECADANTDUDE!!!!'

_'You don't want to be one, ey? Well, better be'-_ "FEARLESSFOOL!"

The Fearlessfool table screamed in unison.

"WE GOT PORTER!" bellowed two redheaded girls who looked suspiciously like Rob's sisters. Rob hooted and clapped Mary on the back. He grinned, and then motioned to the two girls.

"These are my sisters, Phoebe and Georgia. Oh, and that's Patty," explained Rob. He pointed to all his older sisters and rolled his eyes as Patty introduced herself as a Prefect.

Mary sat down next to Rob and his sisters and watched the rest of the Sorting Concert. After the Sorting, Mary hungrily dug into the Boneslides Feast before her and, after a short speech from Dynamidore (who said something about the C Wing corridor being forbidden and the Spooky Forest also forbidden to all students), tramped to the G Wing with the rest of the Fearlessfools, very content with her life.

* * *

A/N: I made up the Sorting Harp's song all by myself, so I own that much. Huzzah! Anyways, please feel free to review. 


	7. Percussion and Drillogy Classes

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed (Jenna, LongbottomzGirl, Grim Reaper, Frodo Princess of Darknes, aelwyn, and DragonSinger21). I don't own Harry Potter or anything relating to it. Now, please enjoy.

* * *

Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome  
Chapter Seven

* * *

"Mary? Mary, get up! We have classes today!" 

Mary's eyes snapped open. Hannah loomed over her with a bucket of ice water.

"Don't- PUT THE BUCKET DOWN! AHH! COLD! HANNAAHHHHHHHH!"

Hannah dumped the water effortlessly over Mary's head. Mary flew out of bed and tore into her warm marching outfit for the day.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Mary met Rob in the Common Room. She yawned, and twirled her still-wet hair as she and Rob looked over their schedules for the day. 

"We have Percussion first with Professor Snare… Ugh, it's Double Percussion with the Decadantdudes…"

* * *

Her sneakers thumped softly on the stone tile as Mary walked from the G wing down to the Basement of the Main Wing. There were eight wings in the Palace: A, B, C, D, E, F, and G, and the Main Wing, which contained the Mess Hall and the Entrance Hall, and also the Basement, where the Percussion classroom was. 

Once they reached the Percussion classroom, Mary took a seat next to Rob behind a quite large marimba. She pulled out her mallet set, and waited patiently for the class to begin.

"I've heard Professor Snare is real mean and he only favors Decadantdudes," whispered a Fearlessfool behind Mary and Rob.

"Yeah, he's the head of Decadantdude house, isn't he?" responded another voice.

"And he's always taking away points from Fearlessfool for no apparent reason, I've heard," piped in another voice.

Suddenly, a door slammed open and all heads turned immediately to the back of the room where the entrance to the classroom was.

"Professor Snare!" squeaked one of the gossiping voices of before.

"Five points from Fearlessfool because of mindless chatter before class. Save your idiocy for break," barked Snare. Mary took an immediate disliking to Snare. His cold, gray eyes had absolutely no life in them. Did he even have a soul?

"Welcome, class, to Percussion. This class will not have idiotic twirling of flags or wasting of breath in brass and woodwind instruments. No, it is the most important instruments of all, the timekeepers, which you will learn how to play in this class. From bass drum to the triangle, each and every percussion instrument is vital to the very musical ability of every orchestra."

Snare glanced down at the seat in front of his desk. He glared right at Mary, who regretted ever sitting in the front.

"Ah, Ms. Porter, our new _star_," hissed Snare. Some of the Decadantdudes hissed with him, and soon the class formed a semi-circle around Mary and Snare.

"So, Ms. Porter now is your time to shine like the star that I'm sure you think you are. Come, play me a F flat harmonic minor scale."

Mary bit her lip and lifted her mallet, unsure what to do. Softly, she mumbled, "I can't play that."

"What was that, Ms. Porter? You can't _play_ that? Bah, stupid girl. Fine, we'll try again. Play this piece," he handed her a piece of complex sheet music, "on the chimes."

"But sir, this is music for drum," whined Mary.

"NO! It is music for snare drum, but the rhythm can be played on the chimes. Obviously you are drowning too much in your own stupidity to realize this. Okay, we'll try once more. Simply tell me what a rim shot is."

"Um, where you hit the rim of the chimes?" guessed Mary.

"WRONG! Twenty points from Fearlessfool for not studying before school," bellowed Snare. Mary hid a tear, and Rob patted her on the shoulder.

"Public displays of affection are against school policy! Fifteen points from Fearlessfool for such indecency from Mr. Otterly. Perhaps I'll have to separate you and Ms. Porter, Mr. Otterly?" leered Snare. Rob glared at Snare with hardened eyes, but did not respond.

Snare whipped around and began typing on a nearby computer. The words he typed showed up on a holoscreen in front of the classroom.

_Minor Scales and Their Relative Majors_, Snare wrote. 

"Hello? You should be copying this down in your notebooks, nitwits!"

Mary hurriedly pulled out her laptop that had been provided to her by the school, and began typing what appeared on the holoscreen.

* * *

Much time passed, and finally Mary and Rob stumbled out of Percussion class, and headed to the Mess Hall for lunch. 

"Can you believe it? The first day of school, and we've already got a three-page essay on finding relative majors and relative minors! Ugh!" complained Rob. Mary shook her head.

"Well, at least it's not due until next Monday."

"Yeah."

* * *

After lunch, Mary and Rob headed out to the fields for Field and Drillology, commonly known to Boneslides students as Drillogy. The professor who ran Drillogy classes was named Professor Sonata. She was tall and lanky, Hispanic in descent. Sonata was the head of Normalninny house. 

Professor Sonata taught the Fearlessfools all about the precise measurements of a football field: the hashes, the yard lines, touchdown ends, and field goals. The front sideline, the back sideline, it was all part of Drillogy. Mary had a lingering suspicion that Professor Sonata knew more about football than ever her Uncle Vincent, the biggest Oakland Raiders fan on Sunny Street.

"Now there are two sets of hashes, the High School Hash, and the NCAA College Hash. We here at Boneslides use the NCAA College Hash, but musical groups from High Schools around the world use different ones, or both, even. The NCAA hashes are marked with yellow on the field, and the High School hashes are marked with blue. Yard lines are white. They appear every five yards. Got it down? Good!"

There was an endless clicking of fingers on keyboards as the Fearlessfools took notes on Professor Sonata's explanation of a football field.

"The field is one hundred yards long and fifty-three point three yards wide. At the end are touchdown areas and field goals, used in the American sport of football. Marchers need not worry about these; their chief concern should be the yard lines and hashes."

Professor Sonata glanced into the west, and noticed the sun's last dying rays.

"Everyone, your homework is only to be sure you have all the notes from today's class. Class dismissed!"

Mary closed her laptop and put it in her book bag. She met up with Rob and together the two walked up to the Mess Hall for dinner.

"Drillogy is really interesting," commented Mary. Rob shook his head.

"Too much math for me," he declared. Mary laughed.

"Did you get all the notes? I did."

"Yeah, so we just have that Percussion essay…" Rob sighed. "Too much for the first week of school…"

"Oh, the essay? I finished that during lunch!" yelled a voice behind them. Rob rolled his eyes as Hannah jogged to catch up with the duo.

"But there's one thing that I don't understand- does the circle of fifths and the order of sharps and flats affect-"

The blank looks on Rob and Mary's faces silenced Hannah's chatter.

"Why do I have a feeling you're not going to do your essay until midnight on the Sunday before?" inquired Hannah.

Rob once again rolled his eyes. "When and how I do my homework isn't a concern of yours."

Hannah's face turned a bit sour and she marched off to the Mess Hall.

Rob shrugged it off without a second thought, but Mary couldn't help but feel a little pity for Hannah. Not to mention envy, even.

* * *

Mary bid goodnight to Rob and tramped upstairs to the Girls' Dormitory. As she was brushing her teeth, she noticed two of the other girls staring at her. They quickly turned their heads when Mary looked in their direction. Mary exhaled slowly and decided to get into bed. She was sure the two girls had just been talking about her, for she heard them mention something about Hannah and she climbed under the covers. 

Though a bit distressed, Mary settled down and hoped for a good night's sleep.

* * *

A/N: You like the chapter? Please tell me if you do or not, coz it is very much appreciated. :) 


	8. Marchoff for a Mouthpiece

A/N: Thanks so, so much for all the wonderful reviews! (Eloquentlyspeechless, esemeli, cottoncandy9128) I loved them! Really, you guys spoil me. You're so nice! Ok, on to the next chapter! Oh, and staff people are the equivalents of ghosts in Harry Potter.

* * *

Just a quick reminder: 

Beginners-First Years  
Newbies-Second Years  
Novices-Third Years  
Rookies-Fourth Years  
Veterans-Fifth Years  
Juniors-Sixth Years  
Seniors-Seventh Years

* * *

Disclaimer: Dare you question that I own Harry Potter or not? (Also, 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' belongs to whoever wrote the movie Mary Poppins.)

* * *

Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome

Chapter 8

* * *

Mary typed up the last of her Percussion essay. It was Monday morning, and the essay would be due today. 

"Mary, hurry up!" whined Rob. He yanked her laptop from underneath her hands and copied down a bit of her last paragraph.

"Do you _mind_, Robert?" yelled Mary. She slapped him lightly on the cheek and stole back her laptop, saving the essay to a disk. "Come on, we've got Marching Class next! I've been looking forward to it all week!"

"You said that about every class, Mary," commented Rob dryly. But he too shut his laptop and put on his marching shoes, for he'd been looking forward to that specific class since the beginning of the school year.

Rob flipped open a small notebook and let out a sigh as he examined his class schedule for the day.

"Double Marching class," he said, "With the Decadantdude Beginners."

"Don't worry about them," instructed Mary. "We finally get to learn how to march!"

* * *

"Be sure to roll your feet, and keep your legs straight, and keep your eyes up!" yelled Madam Marchin. Mary held up her clarinet to the right horn angle so that it faced the front sideline, and waited as Madam Marchin counted off before the Marching Class did the Figure Eight once more. 

Mary moved forward, trying very desperately to dress and cover and keep her eyes up. She placed one foot on a forty-five degree angle and marched to the right with her body still facing the front sideline. It was tough work, and it required a lot of upper body strength that she didn't have much of. But Madam Marchin had told the class that everybody always was a Beginner at one point, and that he or she would always have trouble marching the first time.

"Ms. Porter, keep in time!" alerted Madam Marchin. Mary blinked; she'd been thinking too much about other things. She told herself to focus on perfecting her backwards marching technique as the basics block of marchers placed a foot and began to back up on tip-toe, which was supposed to be the good technique for backing up.

The block shifted to the left, all the while with upper bodies still positioned to the front. Mary's eyes glanced behind her and she gritted her teeth as she noticed the perfect upper body angle on a certain blonde-haired snare drummer behind the main block.

It was unusual that the Battery, or marching percussionists, did Basics with woodwinds and brass players. Today had been an exception, for Drumstick Dan, the staff person for Decadantdude house and the percussion, had fallen ill.

There was one staff person per house: Nick the Nitpick for Fearlessfool, Drumstick Dan for Decadantdude, Tayla the Theoretician for Smartstuff, and Guard Instructor Gina for Normalninny. They were alumni of Hogwarts, and each had just come on Friday to help with classes and such. There were several other Staff people as well, but Nick, Dan, Tayla and Gina were the main four.

Mary drew her focus back to the Basics block, and placed one foot down and moved forward. Her eyes snapped diagonally forward and to the right as she watched a baritone saxophonist trip. The alto saxophone player behind him fell on top of him, and the two saxophones landed on the ground, dented and bent beyond reason.

"Halt!" Madam Marchin shouted abruptly. She rushed over to the two fallen saxophonists.

"Mr. Longfellow, Ms. Brown? Are you all right? And your instruments?" questioned the Madam as she aided the two Fearlessfools back onto their feet.

"I'm fine and so is my saxophone, but I think Billy's saxophone is broken quite badly," commented the alto saxophonist, Lily Brown, a girl that Mary knew from her dormitory.

Lily was quite right in saying that Billy's saxophone was broken. It had bent all the way in half; the mouthpiece lay chipped and muddied on the ground, and the bell of the saxophone no longer even resembled something of that shape.

"We'll get you to Madam Presto and your saxophone to Hagrid in just a second," Madam Marchin told Billy, who nodded, and rubbed his nose, which was bleeding. "The rest of you, stay where you are, and don't even think of marching or playing or you're be expelled before you can say 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'"

She and Billy walked away from the field and towards the Palace. Mary turned her head in a hurry as she noticed Darcy setting her snare drum down to pick up something that was on the ground- Billy's mouthpiece!

"Ew, a reed!" hissed the entire flute section. Darcy held up the mouthpiece by the reed, and laughed.

"I'm sure Billy Longfellow will be missing _this_," pondered Darcy. She grinned evilly, and prepared to throw it into the Spooky Forest not 90 feet away.

"Stop!" hollered Mary. "Billy needs that!"

Darcy twisted around, her face beet-red. "I don't care, Porter! He'll just have to suffer! It's his fault that he tripped in the first place! Besides, what could you possibly want with this thing?"

"The mouthpiece is still good! I'll, um, I'll have a march-off with you for it!" bellowed Mary.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Darcy shouted back. Though she might've been dim, when it came to marching and playing music,Darcy had a certain passion for it that ran through her veins and couldn't be ignored. Darcy clicked off the tempo on her snare drum, and marched the figure eight, all the while playing a complex sixteenth- and eighth-note rhythm.

"Beat that, Porter!"

Mary shifted nervously. What had she been getting into? She didn't know how to play much at all on her clarinet! Quickly thinking back to a previous Band class with Professor McGraveh, she chose on a simple piece that she remembered: The Saints Go Marching In. Mary decided to try marching the oblique exercise she'd seen Veterans doing earlier that day. It was similar to the Figure Eight, except she had to march diagonals.

She clicked off a faster tempo in her head, and moved forward diagonally to the right as she played the first measure of the song. Mary sung what she knew of the song in her head.

'Oh when the saints… Go marching in…. Oh when the saints go marching in! I wanna be… In that number… Oh when the saints go marching in!'

She sustained the last note and halted. The Fearlessfools clapped, the Decadantdudes moped, and Darcy muttered and threw the mouthpiece straight at Mary's head. She caught it, and smiled. She was pretty good!

"Ms. Porter! Come with me," whispered Madam Marchin into Mary's ear.

The smile wiped right off of Mary's face. 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,' Mary thought.

* * *

"I'm on the… What's it called?" asked Mary once again, dumbfounded. 

"The Corps Team, Mary! Corps Team is like a marching band competition, but for smaller groups with seven to twenty-eight members. The Boneslides norm is nine per house," explained Ollie Forester, a Rookie Year Fearlessfool and Fearlessfool Corps Team Captain.

"Yes, and you're the one woodwind marcher we've been looking for," explained McGraveh. Madam Marchin had taken Mary to McGraveh's office, and lo and behold, Mary had been selected for the elite Fearlessfool Corps Team.

"Meet me after school for training, Mary," instructed Ollie.

Mary nodded, still confused, and headed out of the door to get to Percussion class so she wouldn't be late.

"Oh, and one more thing, Ms. Porter," called Professor McGraveh's voice, "Help us win this thing."

Mary smirked. "Yes, Professor." There was going to be a new Corps Team Champion House this year.

* * *

What'd ya think? Good or bad? And do you like the concept of Corps Team, or is it too unoriginal? Maybe I can change it to Drill Team if worst comes to worst. Thanks for reading, and leave a review! 


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